


What I'm Here For

by Sangrylah



Series: Collections of Snippets and 0Ss (1st season) [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 4some/OT4, F-word, Jackson is very hurt and Stiles comforts him very much, M/M, Maybe gang-bang, Potential Dub-Con, but it's not SO dark, past sexual situation, strongly implied sexual situations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-15
Updated: 2012-09-15
Packaged: 2017-11-14 07:34:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/512848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sangrylah/pseuds/Sangrylah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“So, four days ago, you hit your first heat, came to Derek for help, and we ended fucking like rabbits.”</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	What I'm Here For

**Author's Note:**

> Comes from the, seemingly, consensus that Jackson would be an omega.

Never in his life has he been so ashamed.  
Never.  
What do they think about him now? He knows their opinions of him weren’t so great before, but now? After… after. _Now_? What would they think looking at him? Seeing him? Seeing him _dressed_ and bitching?  
Ah. Bitching, yes. Like a bitch.  
Because that’s what he is.  
A bitch.  
That’s why he is here, what he is in the pack for.  
To be a bitch. And a _whore_.  
Jesus fucking _Christ_.  
He’s disgusting.  
So fuck-freaking disgusting.  
How could he bring himself to look them in the eyes now? Less than that, how could he generally look at them? How could he stand them looking at him? What will they say, what will they _think_?  
How could he even be in their presences when the memories of… _it_ haunt him?  
The answer is simple: he can’t.  
He can’t because he is… he was… Damnit!  
He can’t even say it. Can’t even stand to think about it. He still wears the stigmata of… their activities. It. Of it. Bites, scratches, hickeys, bruises, soreness. All over his body - on his chest, on his back, on his arms, on his neck, on his hips, on his legs, on the inside of his thighs, even on his friggin’ _ankle_. Disgust, shame, hatred, loathing. All of it, for him. Hoody.  
He has never been so ashamed in his whole life, and he did some stupid shit.  
But this.  
 _This_.  
The _shame_ of it. It suffocates him.  
Dear God.  
This couldn’t be worse.  
  
“Hey.”  
Well, guess it could. Fuck his shitty life in this shitty town and this shitty high school with this _extra shitty PEOPLE!_  
“Fuck off, Stilinski.”  
He’s biting his tongue as soon as the words leave his mouth because, hey, why not giving the guy -one on the guys, fuc-freaking _hell_ \- who just screwed you for three days ammunition, uh? Sounds like fun!  
The other teen doesn’t respond, for obvious reasons, and a tense silence settles.  
“Well, awkward much!” Stilinski cries out suddenly. “So, okay, let’s summarize the situation.”  
As if he needed it. He just needs to forget it. And to pry his eyes out. And his brain, _God_.  
“So, approximately four days ago - Scott says it’s three, I say four, and since Derek isn’t saying anything apart a grunt here and there that belongs more to a starving baby bear than to a twenty-something human or were being, I clearly win this round so it’s four.”  
Dear Lord, someone shuts him up.  
“So, four days ago, you hit your first heat, came to Derek for help, and we ended fucking like rabbits.”  
So nice of him to remind him of this little fact he had totally forgotten!  
“Is it accurate enough for you or would you like to add some more details? I’m open to suggestions, and even some sneaky swearing. No? Okay, fine by me. Let’s go back in track. So we, uh, kinda kept turns fucking you and you liked it, am I right? Well, of course I’m right, you beg very prettily, you know? But then, I always said you were far too pretty for your own good, what with your cheekbones and your lips and your eyes, man, especially when alone with a hunter on a deserted parking space that is empty - did I highlight the stupidity of this idiotic conduct enough? Let’s say I did, just so I can carry on. We can go back to this later if you will. The point that I’m making here-”  
“Really, there is a point? ‘cause from where I’m standing it’s just you babbling to humiliate me and rub in my face that you literally fucked me over.”  
“Well, what can I say; I’m a pain in the ass. Everybody says it, it was time you learned it.”  
Jackson’s heart _stops_. Did he just-? No, not even Stilinski would be insensible enough to- Incredulous, Jackson raises his eyes to Stiles, sitting next to him.  
“Yes. Yes, I said it.” The teen nods, eyes closed and thinned lips, like saying it hurt him too.  
And just like that, Jackson is laughing. It starts small and quiet and becomes loud and big. He’s laughing like he never laughed, because never before has he begged to be gang-raped for days by his… he didn’t know how to call them anymore.  
Stiles is laughing with him, quieter but pretty much as much hysterically as him/quieter but pretty much as hysterical as him.  
Gosh, it’s so fucked up.  
After a while, Jackson doesn’t even know if he’s laughing or sobbing.  
He doesn’t fight the arm than curl around his shoulder to draw him against Stiles. Stiles is wiry but there is strength in his frame, and twice more in his mind. Jackson instinctively pushes his nose in his sweater-covered stomach and breathes in deeply. Stiles’ scent is comforting and familiar. He basks in it when they puppy pile, breathes in it deeply before lacrosse to remind himself he has something to fight and stay in control for, was surrounded by it when Stiles was inside hi- Gosh!  
Stiles holds him back when he tries to break away.  
“Let me go.”  
“No way. I won’t be able to catch you if you run.”  
Here it is. Complete disregard of what he wants, what he asks, because is… not worthy of their respect anymore.  
“Whatever you’re thinking, you stop right now and forget it, because you’re wrong.”  
“You don’t know what I’m thinking.” Jackson hisses back.  
“That you’re a slut, a bitch - _our_ bitch. That you will be used and then discarded like an old toy.  That we won’t listen to you anymore, that we won’t respect you anymore. Am I right or am I right?”  
Jackson gasps a painful breath. Is he really so transparent? So pathetic?  
He feels Stiles nod against his hair. “I thought so.”  
Silence.  
“Listen, Jackson...” And Stiles stops, because this discussion is kind of fucked up, so much that even Stiles doesn’t know how to tackle it. Jackson just wants him to fuck off and to never look at him again. He wants the marks on his body and the soreness to disappear so he can forget anything ever happened and pretend it - all of it, the werewolves, Lydia, everything - was just a bad trip induced dream.   
But then Stilinski grows balls (ah!) and tackles the discussion like he does with everything else, werewolves on a killing spree included: with determination and no subtlety. “So you liked it. Being fucked by guys, I mean. So what? Does it matter?”  
“Of course it matters!”  
“Really? Why? I mean, we ultimately are mammals, right? programmed to enjoy our bodies and physical contacts. The human beings enjoy sex - hell, we’re teenagers, we think about it like seventy percent of the time! You’re a wolf now, your instincts are even stronger and not impaired by humans morals or whatever. Morals that come from religious beliefs, by the way, so engrained in our society we don’t even identify them anymore, did you know that? Because there is nothing in nature that says homosexuality is wrong or anything. Dogs fuck each other to assert their dominance and some penguins in a German zoo paired off gayly because there was no female around. The funny thing is, when they introduced females, the males didn’t break their homosexual pairings, so the females had to pair off between them. Crazy, right? This shows that clearly homosexuality isn’t unnatural. It’s just frowned upon in human society, and what do we have that animals don’t? Religion, jackpot!” he carries on before Jackson can so much as breathe. “So you see, it’s alright, really. You had sex with guys, and you liked it.” He shrugs. “It’s okay. It’s still just sex. It’s alright to like it. We’re meant to. It’s kind of the purpose, you know?”  
Put like this, it makes sense. It even feels alright. Because truthfully, Jackson _loved_ it. He felt… loved. Taken care of. Precious. Cherished. His pack took care of him, meeting his needs and his demands, answering his pleas with promises and tender kisses, crooning sweet things in his ears, whispering that he was good and amazing, beautiful and perfect, feeding and watering him with care and carefulness, kissing him and caressing him like he would disappear if they stopped for only one moment.  
Jackson hates that he loved it. Hates himself that he craves it, even now, when his body reminds him of what he did every breath he takes. Stiles’ hand falls on his neck, squeezing softly and even now, Jackson can’t help but to respond to the comfort of his pack and relax, sink a little more against Stiles’ heat and firmness.  
“Derek explained us what it is to be an omega.” the teen whispers. His voice is… different. Stiles’ is human and Jackson can’t feel him in the pack bond, so he doesn’t know what it is. But even if his tone is soft, his words feel like blows to Jackson. He doesn’t want to know what it is that he is now. What he will have to do for his pack. He already knows. And he loves them - even if he would deny it, he will keep this secret to his grave - he really does, but he doesn’t want this.  
“He never said it was to be a bitch, Jackson. He never said you have to roll over for us. What Derek said was that it was being precious.”  
Precious?  
“The omegas are the packs’ most cherished treasures. They are to be cared for and fiercely protected, more than anybody else in the pack, because they are delicate and seek to please with all they’ve got, and will endanger themselves doing it or trying. The omegas’ role is to love and to be loved. Fiercely.”  
To be loved. Really?  
“We love you, Jackson. And I will deny even saying it until the day I die, so commit to memory, but you have to stop not believing it. You have to start trusting us. We won’t ever do anything to hurt you. And if someone does, Lydia will make their life a living hell, I will kick their ass, Allison will castrate them, Scott will rip their arms off, and Derek will rip their throat out with his teeth.”  
I shouldn’t like it as much as I do, thinks Jackson. Because people swearing to maim, kill and destroy for you shouldn’t be comforting but fucking scary. Jackson isn’t scared though. Not at all. Because he would do the same for any member of the pack. He understands why they feel like this because he does, and he can admit, if only to himself and with unaltered shame, that he wants them to feel like this about him too.  
“We are pack, and a pack protects its members.”  
That’s what packs do, yes. That’s what Jackson wants without believing he can ever have it.  
“So yes, you’re an asshole. You blackmailed Scott in giving you the bite with Allison, dumped Lydia like a wet rag and always were a dick with me and Scott. But that’s the jerk we love, with his too pretty eyes and his amazing cheekbones, and a membership to our pack. It doesn’t mean I don’t want to punch you occasionally - well, a bit more than that, but no one has to know, right? - but it’s not like you never feel the need to reciprocate either, right?”  
“Sometimes I wish I could stitch your mouth close, Stilinski”, Jackson answers almost casually. This is the test, the true assessment of Stiles’ honesty.  
“That’s the spirit!” the teen cries out, and Jackson can feel his smile. “We’ll certainly never stop to hit on each other’s nerves, but that’s the thing. For all intents and purpose, I’m you brother now. The one who never shuts up and ends up saving the day nine times out of ten. That’s me.”  
A brother. Sounds good, especially since Stiles is one hundred percent genuine. Jackson never has siblings - or if he does he doesn’t know it. And he doesn’t want to. Were his siblings adopted too? And did their parents keep them like they dichted him? Ignorance is sometimes better. It hurts less. Being adopted is hard - for him anyway. He heard a lot about other adopted kids who love their parents and feel blessed to be adopted. These kids are happy and grateful. Jackson is grateful but not happy. Maybe he was, once, kid, but not anymore. He was abandoned once, what keeps his adopted family to discard him again? He tries his best but it never seems to be enough. He gets good grades - not excellent but more than average, he is the captain of the lacrosse team and leads his team to victory for two years now but it’s not sufficient. Sometimes, he thinks it won’t ever be.  
But it doesn’t hurt so much now. He has a pack, people who like him. Derek bit him by choice - he chose Jackson to be a part of his pack. He was chosen. Selected. He has brothers, and sisters. It feels good. To lose everything because he is an omega… hurts. Hurt?  
“There is something else that you have to understand. What we did these last few days… It wasn't about the sex, Jackson.”  
Really? Jackson wanted to believe it, but the _shame_.  
“It wasn’t about satisfying our desires with you because you were here and begged for it. It wasn't about us taking turns fucking you silly and making you our bitch.” Stiles empathically shakes his head, emphasizing his speech. “It was you needing us, and us meeting you needs. I won’t say it was a chore, because it sure wasn’t.”  
Yeah, he gathered that much. He took as much pleasure from what they did to him than from their reactions. He felt worthy, useful and cherished. This is what it kills him. The… _feelings_. They’re disgusting. Maybe. Are they? Stiles said they’re not, and his logic is sound. Stiles is smart _and_ clever, after all. Even if he hides it behind jokes. And he didn’t lie. Stiles said they love him and cherish him. That they still respect him.  
“But we didn’t do it for the sex. We did it because you needed us, and we took care of you, because you are pack, and we care about you. We love you. We’ll do everything we can to protect you, to care for you, and to cherish you.” At this, Stiles, gently pushes Jackson away. He complies without protesting, and raises big questioning eyes at Stiles. The teen takes his face between his hands and look him right in the eyes. No disdain here, no wrath, no slur. Just fondness and earnestness. Jackson allows himself to hope.  
When Stiles talk, it’s slowly and deliberately, maintaining eye contact and blinking between sentences, as if he doesn’t want to when he’s talking. “You are our omega, Jackson. It means you are ours to protect, to care for, and to treasure, because _you_ are _ours._ But it also means that we are yours to love, and to care for, and to protect, because we are your betas and your alpha. We are as much yours as you are ours.” Each word is like a blow to Jackson’s heart. Something that hits hard and then molds itself around him to smother him in warmth. “We’ll stay with you and care for you during your next heats, and the next, and the next after that, and the next, and all the following because we love you, and as much as you need us during it, we need to be here for you. That’s what we are here for. What _I_ am here for.”  
“… For me?”  
“Totally. That’s what packs do, right?”  
Jackson nods shyly. He feels unbalanced and too full.  
He dares to think, now, about… after. When he was exhausted and covered in  
Then a heat presses itself against his back and a nose nuzzles his neck, while another body glues itself to his side and when he raises his head, Derek is standing, towering over him standing on his two feet. But when he looks down at him there isn’t any contempt. He fists his hand in Jackson head and shakes slightly, softer than he ever did before. Jackson can’t help it - he whines and press his face in Derek’s tee-clad stomach. Neither Scott or Stiles let him go, leaning on him to stay connected, which leaves Derek the sol holder of all their combined weight. It doesn’t seem to deter him. He is their alpha, thinks Jackson, it’s his job to stand over them and to share his strength with them. Jackson thinks he should be wary to feel Scott plastered to his back after the last few days but he doesn’t. Squished between the male members of his pack, he feels only peace and belonging. He feels cherished and a little less ashamed. Derek’s hand in his hair tugs gently once more, making him purr.  
“Stop thinking.”  
He can do that, if just for a while, counting his pack stays with him. That’s what they are here for.

  


**Author's Note:**

> I know, it features Stiles a lot, but it’s a thoughtful decision this time, like for the _Catch me if you can_. Stiles is the one Jackson has the less affinities with and the worse relationship: Derek is his Alpha and Scott a (fellow, did he believe) beta. Stiles though is human, irritating and clearly picked on by Jackson. Being told that they love him by the one whom he has the less good relationship with would go a further way than being told by his Alpha, who has to protect him.


End file.
